Chained Melody
by WretchedOne
Summary: A young girl stands in a very long shadow.


I can't believe I'm doing this, but here is a little piece about an easy-to-overlook character in Death Note, some of the challenges she faces, and her response to them. It was a case of sudden inspiration, a picture I just couldn't get out of my mind till I started writing about it. Hope it's not too embarrassing. -Naomi

* * *

Those fingers could do anything, everything, she could do, better. Except one thing.

Those eyes could read in a multitude of languages and pick up textual nuances most people would never have noticed. This skill was applied equally to all texts in any language. Except one text.

Nothing baffled that brain. Except this one thing. The one thing she had refused to be second best at, because she just had to be better than him at something. Anything.

The only thing she could do better than him was play piano.

And even that was a fragile state of being. If at any time he decided to learn, he would surpass her by leaps and bounds in an amazingly short amount of time. Well, amazing to anyone else, but not to her. She'd seen it all by now, seen him ace this, score perfect on that, learn this or that in a quarter of the time most people would take. It was no surprise anymore, just the bitterly monotonous way of life. She was used to him and his abilities and the compliments he was paid. He no longer impressed her.

For a long time he had, though. He'd impressed her, he'd overawed her with his ability to do anything, everything, better than everyone else. Her brilliant, beautiful big brother! He'd been so kind to her, so sweet and patient about helping his poor, stupid sister with her homework, with anything else that produced tears that he witnessed. His poor, stupid, kid sister! With him around, who needed her? If she couldn't do _something_ he couldn't, she had no use, no purpose. Surely there was a gap she could fill in. So when he showed little interest in continuing with any musical education, she pursued it with a vengeance, intent on becoming an expert. Just in one little thing, that would be enough.

She'd loved him, but she'd been so jealous. He would never have to work hard at anything; he would get everything he wanted with no effort at all. She had never had, would never have that luxury. She attended her 45-minute piano lessons twice a week, did so for six years. He could probably teach himself to play in a tenth of that time. She practiced for an hour at least, every day, till her fingers were numb and stiff. He probably wouldn't need to practice at all. He'd probably just have a knack for it, like he just had a knack for everything else.

And she suspected that he knew exactly how she felt. He always knew everything about everyone; he certainly knew this about her. And he allowed her this one small dignity. He didn't touch the piano, didn't teach himself to play in a tenth of the time it had taken her to learn, and permitted her to keep her one miserable title, her one measly merit badge. If he tried to learn, he would outstrip her easily, easily how he did everything. But he was kind to her, had always been kind to her, for some reason, and in his kindness he let her shine in one area, just one. In his benevolence, for those brief periods where her one talent mattered, he let her have the spotlight. A small victory, a half a point for her self-respect.

But what a hollow victory! A victory spoon-fed to her by him, like answers to math problems she couldn't solve by herself. Like a beggar, she was completely dependant on his charity, impoverished of any value except what he was willing to donate to her desperate need to excel. Sometimes she felt like whacking the damn piano with a truncheon until it collapsed into a heap of useless parts, just like she would if her brother ever decided to revoke his grant of kindness towards her.

But of course, she never would, because he hadn't revoked it yet, and whilst that was so, it meant that she still had his silent consent to be better than him in this one area, just this one. And she was going to take advantage of that consent for as long as she could.

Still, she hoped, probably in vain, that Light didn't notice the tension that gripped her posture whenever he stood at her shoulder, en route to his bedroom to complete a unit of math the rest of his class wouldn't learn until the next week, listening as she practiced herself to exhaustion at the upright piano in the den, and the relief that relaxed her muscles when he told her that "I don't know much about music, but to my untrained ear, you sound great, Sayu!" She hoped he never knew that, once his brilliant back was turned and his brilliant mind on things more stimulating that her, she couldn't help grinning in satisfaction at the gleaming keys as though they were her partners in crime.


End file.
